


Firmament

by micehell



Series: Dis Manibus [2]
Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: Character death (but he gets better ;), Drama, Ficlet, M/M, touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-03
Updated: 2008-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:49:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rooftops Curt has known</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firmament

**Author's Note:**

> _Look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire_ \-- Hamlet

There was a little place up on the rooftop that Curt knew about. He and Brian had gone up there once, after a gig, when Curt had been bouncing out of his skin with the electricity that was the bane and the joy of his existence. But Brian had held him, pinned him, fucked him back down from the sun he'd flown too close to. It was one of Curt's favorite memories.

He shouldn't take this kid up there, not to that place. It was pathetic, a sick attempt to reproduce magic with nothing more than the right place and the wrong man. It wasn't fair to either of them.

But the kid reminded him of Brian. It wasn't the hair or the face, trying so hard to copy his idol, but wearing Brian's look like ill-fitting clothes. But he mirrored Brian's moonlight presence, the sense of a changeling left behind. It was shuttered in the kid, not having found its way out yet, but he'd be special one day, a star in his field, whatever that turned out to be.

And he was special now. Maybe Curt couldn't recreate memories that were best left alone, anyway, but he could find new ones, a leprechaun's pot at the end of a rooftop. It might not be magic. But then again, it just might. 

"Arthur," the kid said as he took him by the hand, leading him towards the stair.

"Curt!" Mandy called, catching them before he could open the door.

::::::::::

Rooftop, Curt thought. It had to be a rooftop. 

He laughed, feeling the blood bubble past his lips. He really was cursed with the damn things, now. Maybe it was Brian's legacy, his revenge from the grave, to make Curt pay for not having listened to him that last time. Maybe Curt would ask him when he finished dying himself.

Curt heard footsteps coming, pounding up the stairs, _hurry, hurry, hurry_ echoing in each tread, but he laughed again, knowing it was too late, his last breath popping against his lips in bloody amusement.

::::::::::

"I'm thinking about starting a walking tour. _Rooftops I Have Known_." 

"It's morbid. I don't know why you want to be up here." 

Curt just smiled at Arthur, tracing a hand along goose-pimpled arms. He'd at least coaxed Arthur out of his shirt, but it was taking all of Curt's charm, and not a little of his stash of Laphroaig, to keep Arthur from bolting. "I seem to remember a time when you were eager to go on my rooftop tour."

Arthur pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him before he slapped Curt upside the back of his head. "I was young and foolish then." His fingers slipped into Curt's hair, rubbing over the not-very abused flesh beneath, mute apology where none was needed, Arthur's voice only audible because of proximity as he added, "And you hadn't died on top of that one."

Maybe it was what he was now, but the thought that he'd died up here didn't upset Curt in the least. He rubbed the sure sign that he was anything but unhappy against Arthur's hip, laughing. "Well, only the little ones."

The pun earned him a pinch that time, the sting on his ass only making Curt grind harder against Arthur. And whether it was the feel of Curt's arousal pushing against his own, or whether it was the very expensive booze finally working its magic, Arthur finally let go of words, let go of reluctance, holding Curt close, pinning him, fucking him back from the underworld that clung too hard, a falling star lighting the way. 

Breathless, laughing, Arthur said, "Make a wish."

Love me again, Curt didn't say, spoken wishes never coming true.

But washed in moonlight, in the right place with the right man, his new memory came true. 

/ficlet


End file.
